TS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 


EDWIN  ARTHUR  HUNT 


V 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BY 

EDWIN  ARTHUR  HUNT 


PRINTED  BY 

THE  KALAMAZOO  LOOSE  LEAF  BINDER  CO. 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


COPYRIGHT.  192O 
BY  EDWIN  ARTHUR  HUNT 


INDEX 

l.'f.   Cation 

Sar  ta  Barbara  Days 1 

Spring  Rain  at  Santa  Barbara 2 

The  Source 3 

Cold  Springs  Brook 4 

Santa  Barbara  Springtime 5 

Spring    6 

The  Tree   7 

The  Sea  Is  Calling 8 

Aurora    9-10 

A  Day 11 

The  Evening 12 

Evening   13 

Night's  Voice 14 

Sunset  Sea 15 

Outward  Bound 16 

The  Channel  Islands 17 

The  Poppy 18 

Roses 19 

A  California  Garden 20 

Come  to  Me 21 

Song   22 

Farewell  to  Thee 23 

The  Elf's  Day 24-25-26 

Beauty's  Sorrow 27-28 

I  Am  the  Wind 29 

A  Picture 30 

The  Misty  Clouds 31 

I  Dreamed  a  Dream 32-33 

Lost  Youth 34 

And  Thou  Art  Mine 35 

The  Hills  at  Ojai 36 

Matilija  Stream 37 

At  Rest 38 

Alchemy 39 

Fall  Moon 40-41 

Sunland    42 

Moon  Madness 43-44 

Night  Magic 45 

We  Shall  Not  Pass 46 

Sailor  Men 47 

Duality 48 

Sing  to  Me,  Love 49 

When  Falls  the  Night 50 

Recompense 51 

Reincarnation   52 

I  Can  Understand 53-54 

Gone  Art  Thou,  Beloved 55 

Life   56-57 

L'Envoi 58-59 

604644 

LIBRAE! 


DEDICATION 

I  see  a  bay 

With  waters  lapping, 

Dancing,  splashing 

On  the  glistening  sands. 

I  feel  the  magic  wind 

From  islands  to  the  south 

Which  whisper  low,  strange  tales 

Of  other  climes  and  other  lands. 

I  hear  a  low  sung  choral 

Borne  by  falling  wave 

And  winging  gull 

And  oak  and  palm. 

The  pulse  of  this  creation, 

Beating  through  my  soul, 

Renews  my  tired  spirit 

With  the  freshness  of  the  dawn. 

EDWIN  ARTHUR  HUNT. 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 

The  morning  leaps  above  the  Rincon, 

Scintillating  in  a  silver  haze ; 
Flies  across  the  breadth  of  jeweled  ocean 

And  ushers  in  another  day  of  days. 

The  gentle  zephyrs  of  each  perfect  day 

Softly  touch  the  rosebuds  and  the  marigolds, 

And  wander  on  across  the  mountain  way 
Where  ancient  gods  hide  'neath  their  magic  folds. 

They  herd  the  fleecy  flocks  that  dot  the  blue, 
Content  to  graze  on  high  in  warmth  and  peace, 

Confirmed  in  majesty  by  me  and  you 

Who  know  these  perfect  days  can  never  cease. 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


SPRING  RAIN  AT  SANTA  BARBARA 

The  earth  is  full  of  rain, 
And  still  more  rain  is  falling. 
Mission  Creek  roars 
Wide  and  muddy  o'er  the  rocks 
To  color  the  sea  earth  brown. 
The  water  tinkles  off  the  eaves 
Upon  the  ground.    The  heavens 
Are  full  of  anguish  and  wish 
To  cleanse  this  bitter  earth 
With  tears.    A  yellow  glow 
Edges  the  roofs  in  darkness. 
Somewhere  the  murmur 
Of  voices ;  somewhere 
The  twitter  of  birds. 

Out  of  the  window  far  away 

The  ocean  lies  aslumbering 

Till  it  meets  the  sky. 

The  clouds  are  driving  pell-mell, 

Like  furious,  frustrate  ladies, 

Upon  the  mountain  peaks, 

Withdrawing  from  one  ridge 

To  reveal  another  beyond. 

The  hills  are  brushed  with  green, 

The  slopes  dotted  with  red  roofs, 

Look  to  be  sliding  down 

The  velvet  slope  to  the  ocean. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE   SOURCE 

Mountains,  rearing  haughty  heads 
To  the  proud  blue  sky, 
Slip  down  to  bathe  in  languid  sea, 
Struggle  o'er  their  own  crags 
To  peer  at  the  singing  brook, 
The  orchestrated  stream, 
Which  surges  onward  home 
In  the  melody  of  its  own  going. 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


COLD  SPRINGS  BROOK 

I  am  the  liquid  song 
Of  many  birds, 
The  rainbow,  and  the  sky. 
I  carry  all  the  wrong 
And  wash  it  in  the  sea. 

I  curl  around  the  stones 
And  hear  their  words. 
Then  linger  near  their  hearts, 
And  dash  away  again  for  fear 
That  I  will  turn  to  stone. 

I  am  more  than  living  water. 
I  am  springtime  and  the  fall. 
I  chase  away  the  seasons, 
Then  I  cry  to  see  them  go, 
And  I  shout  my  fond  goodbye. 

I  am  strength  within  the  oak, 
And  faith  to  living  men. 
I  am  beauty  to  the  wild  rose, 
And  love  to  springing  grass. 
I  am  life  who  leapeth  past. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SANTA  BARBARA  SPRINGTIME 

Freezias  and  hyacinths,  fragrant  with  love ; 
White  clouds  flying  in  silence  above; 
Green  grass  spreading  over  the  hill; 
Mocking  birds  singing  their  strangest  rill. 

Moonbeam  and  sunlight  calling  to  me; 
One  in  the  shadows,  the  other  in  glee; 
Brooks  in  their  fullness  and  glory  of  life ; 
Waves  in  their  madness  and  earth-tearing  strife. 

Brown  leaves  bursting  their  winter  shell; 
All  earth  clamoring  its  glory  to  tell ; 
Bright  eyes  are  telling  of  hearts  light  and  gay; 
Red  lips  are  singing  their  love  songs  today. 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


SPRING 

The  symphony  of  spring  is  playing 

By  the  orchestra  of  God, 
And  all  the  birds  are  singing, 

And  flowers  lifting  from  the  sod. 

The  harmonies  are  sweet  and  pure, 
The  trills  are  rippling  rills 

Of  winding  brooks  secure 

In  the  mountains  and  the  hills. 

The  color  scheme  is  rich  and  deep 
With  shades  of  brown  and  green ; 

And  splashed  upon  the  hillside  steep 
Are  gold  and  purple  seen. 

The  iridescent  sunlight  plays 
On  the  hidden  drops  of  dew 

In  early  morn  of  the  joyous  days, 
And  lets  them  flash  for  you. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE    TREE 

I  fell  upon  this  giant  stone 

Many  years  gone  by, 
And  falling  there,  felt  alone 

Some  earth  on  which  to  die. 

But  as  my  life  had  nearly  fled 

A  tiny  drop  of  water  fell 
Sweet  smelling  on  my  head, 

And  bade  me  burst  my  shell. 

I  thrust  my  tiny  fingers  through 
The  soil  on  which  I  rested, 

But  granite  stopped  my  life  then,  too, 
And  vain  had  I  resisted. 

Once  again  a  raindrop  came 

And  courage  gave  to  me; 
He  kissed  the  stone ;  his  the  blame 

That  I  could  grow  more  deeply. 

Years  slipped  by  as  silently 

I  fought  that  stone  for  life, 
Until  I  found  myself  a  tree 

And  split  the  stone  in  strife. 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


THE  SEA  IS  CALLING 

Through  the  low  hanging  pines  on  the  bluff, 
To  the  deep  swelling  sea  o'er  the  sound, 
Where  the  low  flying  gulls  seek  the  fish 
That  swim  lazily  far  out  to  the  west, 

There's  a  breath  in  the  breeze  that  is  blowing, 
Like  a  scent  from  the  island  of  Pan, 
With  a  tang  of  free  flying  billows 
That  whistle  and  sing  and  are  glad. 

There's  a  promise  of  romance 

In  the  questing,  restless  sea 

That  is  drawing,  and  singing  and  calling 

To  me;  a-calling  forever  to  me. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


AURORA 

The  laughing  wings  of  morning  dip 
Their  crimson  feathers  in  the  sea, 
Then  spread  them  o'er  the  earth, 
In  a  joyous  minstrelsy 
Of  song. 

They  brush  the  tired  ramparts 
Of  the  ebony  divine, 
And  hang  the  garlands  of  the  stars 
About  the  pillars  of  the  day 
In  song. 

They  fill  the  cavernous  dome, 
Wherein  the  breathing  dark 
Has  lain,  with  brilliant  rapture, 
Enrich  the  earth,  reveal  the  sun 
In  song. 

While  yet  the  heavy,  working  eyes 
Are  throbbing  in  the  ache  of  sleep 
They  gently  rise  agleam  in  heaven, 
Subdue  the  lights  of  martyred  gods 
Not  long — 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


For  soon  their  pinions  tire, 
Freighted  by  the  weight  of  doom, 
And  e'er  they  mount  the  cross, 
Or  touch  the  sword  Orion  swung 
So  long 

They  purple  in  their  anguished  flight 
To  know  that  once  again 
The  futile  winging  of  the  sky 
Has  failed  to  fill  all  men 
With  song. 


10 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


A  DAY 

The  rose  of  morn  breaks  o'er  the  earth, 

A  restful  benediction, 

Diffused  upon  the  mountain  slope, 

Reflected  on  the  sea, 

Enchanting  mistress  of  the  jeweled  sky, 

Oh  dawn  of  revelry! 

Garlanded  in  purple  hue, 

Entrained  with  mists  of  dew, 

I  see  thee  sweep  the  vaulted  blue 

With  gesture  of  regal  grace, 

And  glance  aloft  with  ruby  eye 

Athirst  for  worlds  unconquered  lie. 

Thy  breath  like  the  sweet  sigh 

Of  love  in  fond  embrace, 

Enraptures  wak'ning  man. 

And  like  the  ray  of  diamonds  white 

Upon  the  whirling  earth  you  flash, 

Bedecking  seas  in  emeralds, 

And  clouds  in  chains  of  gold. 

From  out  the  holes  of  moistened  ground, 

The  caves  of  rock  bound  glen, 

The  shivered  tree  on  craggy  knoll, 

Or  the  huts  of  man,  they  stream 

To  do  thy  bidding,  chaste  and  pure, 

Goddess  of  the  Day,  secure 

In  thy  temple  of  the  night  to  fare 

When  life  shall  tire  of  its  play. 


11 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


THE   EVENING 

Softly  down  the  tide  the  day  is  drifting ; 
Softly  o'er  the  earth  the  veil  is  lifting 
On  the  face  of  night. 

Softly  o'er  the  water  languor  steals, 
Slowly  o'er  the  land  sweet  evening  feels 
For  the  hand  of  light. 

Singing  pastorals  of  calmest  moods, 
Sighing  requiems  of  oaken  woods, 
Evening  flies  on. 

Flies  onward  in  the  wake  of  time, 

Folds  over  thee  fond  wings  of  mine, 

Brings  peace,  and  flies  on. 


12 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


EVENING 

I  dwell  where  the  shadows  creep  athwart 
The  low  flying  branches  of  the  oak, 
And  the  rustle  of  her  green-gray  gown 
Makes  music  when  the  sun  goes  down. 

I  steal  upon  those  outstretched  arms, 
And  watch  the  shadows  close  around  me, 
Then  I  lie  my  head  upon  her  breast 
And  dream  of  God  and  call  Him  blest. 


13 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


The  burning  heat  of  summer  day 
Has  traced  its  way  across  the  earth, 

And  home  at  eve  to  love  and  play 

I  come,  well  knowing  whence  thy  mirth. 

The  rose-tinted  clouds  hover  close 
Above  the  purple  mountain  peaks, 

And  then  turn  gray  as  night  grows 
Lovingly  athwart  the  sky  and  speaks. 

The  night  speaks  with  the  voice  of  song, 
The  melody  of  stars  and  dew ; 

Night  brings  me  hope  and  lingers  long 
In  my  memory  of  you. 


14 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SUNSET  SEA 

The  sea,  sister  of  the  silent  sky, 

Lies  adreaming,  tossing  with  a  rhythmic  pulse, 

Rising,  falling,  world  without  end ; 

Smooth  as  the  highest  sky, 

Blue  as  her  soft  blue  eye, 

Quiet,  quiet,  rise  and  die, 

Sunset  sea  and  morning  sea. 

Mirage  of  land  upon  thy  heaving  breast, 

Encircled  round,  north,  south  and  west, 

Wave  follows  wave  with  glassy  glide, 

Golden  bands,  then  darker  blue. 

Rosy  lips  thrust  to  the  sky 

That  bends  aloft  in  contemplation 

Yet  refusing  thy  caress. 

The  sun  goes  down  reluctantly 

Behind  the  silent  guardian 

Ranges  of  the  west  that  hold 

Forever,  and  forever  thy  form  embraced. 

They  blush  for  fear  that  he  will  rise 

No  more  upon  thy  languid  breast. 

They  blush,  then  slowly  melt 

Into  lavender  and  as  night  creeps  on 

They  draw  the  purple  curtain  of  repose. 

Thou,  oh  Goddess  of  the  world, 

Soft  caressing  shores  voluptuously, 

Sigh  to  have  the  peaks  no  more, 

Then  laugh  thy  fickle  laugh  again 

As  the  east  wind  moves  his  lover's  hand 

Ecstatically  across  thy  smooth  brow. 


15 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


OUTWARD  BOUND 

Outward  bound  and  the  day  is  calm. 
The  waters  sleep  upon  earth's  palm 

Outstretched  to  feel  the  sun. 
Our  sails  are  full  of  the  living  air, 
And  the  fishes  speed  beneath  our  keel, 

Where  the  deepened  shadows  run. 

We  leave  the  Santa  Barbara  coast, 
An  opal  dream,  a  purple  haze 

Upon  the  southern  sea. 
And  sail  away  to  distant  lands  and  seas, 
But  e'er  we  leave  this  elfin  land, 

Look  back  in  hope  to  thee. 


16 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE    CHANNEL   ISLANDS 

Thy  low-flung  pennons  resting, 
Stretched  between  the  sea  and  sky ; 

Purple  shades  when  night  is  falling, 
A  hint  of  earth  gone  drifting  by. 

When  the  sun  is  hanging  low 
Beyond  thy  portals  in  the  west, 

Nightwinds  o'er  the  waters  blow 
Golden  beams  to  soothe  thy  rest. 


17 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


THE  POPPY 

Upon  the  hillsides,  wet  with  dew, 

Where  the  morning  and  the  night  winds  meet ; 
Upon  the  slopes  that  lead  to  you 

Are  paths  that  always  will  be  sweet. 

Upon  the  airtide,  fresh  with  song, 

Where  the  fragrance  of  the  field  is  hung ; 

Upon  the  sun's  bright  flight  along 
The  hillside,  cups  of  gold  are  flung. 


18 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


ROSES 


Red  rose  of  morning, 
Be  jeweled  with  dew, 

Fragrant  and  brimming 
With  incense  for  you. 

Gold  Rose  of  Ophir, 
So  subtly  you  smile, 

So  loving  and  tender, 
I  feel  you  beguile. 


White  rose  of  ev'ning, 
Thy  soul  is  a  dream, 

A  solace  in  grieving 
When  stars  are  agleam. 

Earth  hath  its  burden, 
And  man  hath  his  pain, 

But  I  have  my  garden 
Of  roses  again. 


19 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


A  CALIFORNIA  GARDEN 

When  the  sun  is  high, 

And  the  shadows  small, 
And  the  vibrant  sky 

A  pale  blue  wall, 

Our  yard  is  filled  with  gold. 

When  the  night  is  nigh 

And  the  shadows  grow, 
And  the  dark  blue  sky 

A  rosy  glow 

Our  yard  is  purple  and  gold. 

When  the  dusk  is  by, 

And  the  flowers  fade 
With  the  fading  sky 

I  hold  each  shade 

A  dream  in  red  and  blue  and  gold. 


20 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


COME  TO  ME 

Ah,  come  to  me. 

Ah,  come  to  me. 
The  breath  of  spring  is  sighing 
Through  the  leaves  and  crying — 

Come  to  me. 

Ah,   come  to  me. 

Ah,  come  to  me. 
The  sea  is  wailing  on  the  shore ; 
The  clouds  are  wailing  evermore — 

Come  to  me. 

Love,  come  to  me. 

Ah,  come  to  me. 
Life  is  passing  on  the  wings  of  day, 
Calling,  calling  as  it  steals  away, 

Come  to  me. 

Come  to  me. 


21 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


SONG 

He: 

Were  all  the  world  a  paradise, 
And  thou,  my  love,  were  flown ; 

Were  all  the  stars  to  greet  mine  eyes 
And  thine  were  cold  or  gone, 
This  earth  would  be  forlorn. 

Together: 

We  meet  to  smile,  to  kiss,  to  love, 
Our  hearts  are  made  as  one. 

A  fairy  led  us  to  this  grove, 
And  left  us  with  the  sun. 

She  danced  before  so  merrily, 

She  beckoned  on  so  cheerily, 

She  fled  away  so  eerily, 
And  left  us  with  the  sun. 

She: 

I  come  alone,  my  heart  afraid, 
Like  the  rosebud  in  the  night, 

And  deep  within  this  sylvan  shade 
I  find  thy  face,  the  light 

That  brings  to  me  the  morn. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


FAREWELL  TO  THEE 

Farewell  to  thee!  Farewell  to  thee! 
The  evening  steals  o'er  land  and  sea, 
With  murmuring  soft  sighs  sweetly — 
Farewell  to  thee! 

Farewell  to  thee!  Farewell  to  thee! 
Thy  melody  falls  upon  my  heart 
With  wondering  why  we  drift  apart; 
Farewell  to  thee! 

Farewell  to  thee!  Farewell  to  thee! 
Thy  pray'r  for  me  like  an  angel's  wing, 
Bade  me  awake  from  my  dreaming, 
Farewell  to  thee! 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


THE  ELFS'  DAY 
THE  DAWN 

Two  little  elfs  were  born  one  day 
Under  a  leaf  in  the  woods. 

A  beggar  man  was  passing  by, 

With  saddened  face  and  darkened  eye. 

He  laid  him  down  upon  the  sod; 

They  closed  his  eyes  and  watched  him  nod. 

He  wandered  on  when  morning  came; 
His  eyes  were  bright,  his  heart  aflame. 


24 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


NOONTIDE 

One  little  elf  had  mended  his  heart, 

The  other  had  woven  a  web  of  illusion, 

So  the  beggar  man  thought  earth's  fair  profusion 

Was  created  only  for  him. 

They  led  him  astray  down  a  village  street, 
His  step  was  jaunty  and  proud, 
And  a  maiden,  sweet  as  the  fairest  flower, 
Caught  his  eye  and  held  him. 


25 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


EVENING 

The  two  little  elfs,  quite  malicious  you  see, 
Tied  a  strand  of  gold-beam  around  them, 
Then  beckoned  them  on  past  a  large  oak  tree, 
Atelling  their  hearts  of  glory  to  be. 
The  beggar  man  held  in  the  maze  of  his  dreams, 
Kissed  the  fair  maiden  most  sweetly,  it  seems. 

Then — the  beggar  man  woke  with  a  start  in  the  night, 
And  the  little  elfs  cried — and  cried — and  died. 


26 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


BEAUTY'S  SORROW 

The  song  that  lingers  in  the  weary  heart, 
Likt  a  fragrant  wisp  of  hyacinth, 
Must  know  that  when  the  soul  is  flown 
The  memory  is  dead. 

The  hurt  that  sears  the  inner  vision, 
Until  a  blackened  crisp  is  left, 
Blots  out  the  trembling  beauty 
Which  dreamed  of  being  seen. 

Out  upon  the  hillsides,  poppies  flower, 
Until  the  waves  of  brilliant  color 
Bewitch  the  eye  and  beckon  him 
Who  sees  beauty — dying. 

And  living  on,  unaware  of  thy  sweet 
Abiding  presence,  rise  the  ugly  commonplace 
Of  men,  made  of  Gold  and  Iron — 
Rise  above  thy  tomb. 


27 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


The  painter  clasps  thy  form  a  moment, 
And  in  quick  response  you  give  him  power 
To  create,  but — thy  soul  is  vanished 
E'er  he  transposes  thee. 

Unattainable  by  poet  heart, 
Unknowable  in  manner  part, 
Yet  lingereth  eternal  out  of  reach 
Of  men  who  need  thee. 

Only  those  who  dream  may  see  thee, 
Only  those  who  touch  thy  outer  garment 
With  the  chaste  kiss  of  dreams 
May  ever  know  thee. 


28 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


I  AM  THE  WIND 

I  am  the  wind  that  roareth  so 
The  doors  and  windows  shake ; 

I  live  alone  and  where  I  go 
Man  trembles  while  I  take. 

I  seize  the  breast  of  the  sea, 
And  the  ridge  of  the  land, 

Until  she  laughs  and  dances  for  me, 
And  it  flies  like  sifted  sand. 

When  the  warm  night  lingers 
And  the  starlight  glimmers  high, 

I  drive  my  frosted  couriers 
Down  from  the  north  to  die. 

Earth  trembles  when  I  breathe, 
Worlds  obey  my  vain  commands, 

Man  tries  my  sword  to  sheathe, 
I  laugh;  his  walls  are  paper  bands. 

Where  I  live,  there  lives  the  free, 
Where  I  go  there  goes  illusion. 

When  I  die,  then  dies  eternity 
For  I  am  master  of  confusion. 


29 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


A  PICTURE 

The  clouds  of  silver  gray 
Change  to  old  rose  and  gold 

At  the  close  of  day, 
And  night  grows  cold. 

The  distant  mountains  turn 
From  purple  to  misty  gray ; 

While  lower  clouds  burn, 
The  sun  sinks  away. 

Now  the  clouds  grow  darker; 

The  sky  is  deep  o'ercast; 
Silver  tints  break  through  the  dark- 

A  star  shines  out  at  last. 


30 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


THE  MISTY  CLOUDS 

The  misty  clouds  drift  cross  the  blue, 
Blown  by  the  western  breeze; 

The  golden  moon  floats  over,  too, 
And  silvers  sighing  trees. 


he  singing  birds  have  gone  to  n 
'Neath  leafy  boughs  or  bush, 

.nd  I  must  go  to  sleep  and  rest ; 
Soothed  by  the  evening  hush. 


But  as  I  glide  away  to  dream, 
I  send  this  word  to  you ; 

The  fairies  know  just  what  I  mean, 
And  you  will  know  it,  too. 


31 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


I  DREAMED  A  DREAM 

Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dream  so  fair, 
Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dream. 

I  thought  I  lived  long  years  ago 
Upon  a  silver  stream. 

A  cottage  stood  so  small  and  rare, 

A  cottage  stood  so  small. 
The  palm  trees  closed  the  sight  from  view, 

The  cottage,  vines  and  all. 

Deep  gardens  'round  a  shady  pool, 

Deep  gardens  'round  a  pool, 
Where  water  lilies  sweetly  grew 

So  white  and  green  and  cool. 

No  windows  gleamed  nor  opened  wide, 

No  windows  gleamed  at  all, 
But  latticed  doors  swung  to  and  fro 

Upon  the  leafy  wall. 

I  saw  a  swan,  a  graceful  swan, 

I  saw  a  stately  swan 
Drift  along  the  pool's  green  shore 

He  rested  so  softly  on. 


32 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Sweet  music  filled  the  languid  air, 

Sweet  music  thrilling  me 
From  many  birds  of  varied  hue 

Aloft  in  ev'ry  tree. 

But  blending  with  the  choral  song, 

Like  a  slow  refrain, 
Came  melodiously  your  voice 

From  one  I  could  not  name. 

I  stepped  behind  a  lilac  bush 

To  see  the  elfin  sprite — 
A  merry  laugh,  I  looked — 'twas  you 

Of  whom  I  dreamed  last  night. 

Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dream  of  you, 
Last  night  I  dreamed  a  dream; 

You  and  I  lived  long  years  ago 
Upon  that  silver  stream. 


33 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


LOST  YOUTH 

Oh,  for  the  days  when  the  world  was  young, 
And  the  stars  and  the  birds  and  the  moon 

Were  bright  with  the  joy  that  had  not  sung 
To  a  head  bowed  low  too  soon. 

Oh,  for  the  days  when  thy  face  was  fair 
With  the  hope  of  love  in  thy  eyes, 

And  thy  radiant  lips  as  rare 
As  the  sunset  red  in  the  skies. 

Oh,  for  the  thought  that  leaps  to  heav'n, 
That  flashes  the  soul's  fairest  word, 

That  brightened  the  void  at  even 
When  you  sang  to  me  like  a  bird. 


34 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


AND  THOU  ART  MINE 

Wish  me  well  for  all  the  earth  is  mine ; 

Hope  that  I  may  live  a  thousand  years ; 
Smile  with  me  with  all  that  love  of  thine; 

Sing  with  me  and  let  there  be  no  tears. 

Wish  me  well  for  all  the  world  is  young; 

Bless  me  then  with  all  that  grace  of  thine ; 
Kiss  me,  love,  and  let  our  song  be  sung ; 

The  world  is  young,  love,  and  thou  art  mine. 


35 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


THE  HILLS  AT  OJAI 

Over  the  hills  at  Ojai 
Walked  we  to  the  town; 

Passed  the  hills  of  Ojai, 
We  then  wandered  down. 

Over  all  the  mountains  bare, 
And  over  all  the  vales, 

The  clouds  had  gathered  there 
To  hide  the  Ojai  dales. 

Singing  loud  and  swinging  free, 

O'er  the  hills  of  Ojai ; 
We  were  gay  and  we  were  three 

On  the  hills  of  Ojai. 

There  was  you  and  there  was  I, 
There  was  jolly  laughter, 

Over  the  hills  of  Ojai 
Trailing  us  soon  after. 

Over  the  hills  at  Ojai 
Walked  we,  oh,  so  fast 

To  catch  the  soul  of  Ojai 
Revealed  to  us  at  last. 


36 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


MATILIJA  STREAM 

Singing  and  dancing  and  leaping, 
It  ripples  and  glides  to  the  sea; 

It  laughs  at  the  slow  creeping 
Shadows  of  night  in  ecstasy. 

It  mirrors  the  silver  of  leaves, 

Shimmering  and  rustling  at  dawn ; 

The  gold  of  the  sunset  receives 

Magic  reflection  e'er  night  is  drawn. 

It  catches  the  long  slanting  rays 
Of  the  sun  fast  dipping  to  rest ; 

And  elfishly  caressingly  plays 

New  color  notes  for  those  who  are  blest. 

When  darkness  has  closed  o'er  the  vale, 
And  quiet  reigns  mystic  and  deep, 

I  can  hear  that  stream  in  the  dale 

Gurgle  love  songs  that  lull  me  to  sleep. 


37 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


AT   REST 

The  clouds  hung  low,  Rose  of  Ophir  tinted ; 

Like  gold  of  old  swung  the  crescent  moon ; 

The  sea  beat  a  low  murmuring  croon 
And  our  campfire  opals  fast  were  minted. 

The  wind  rustled  through  the  dripping  leaves, 
Melodies  of  souls  long  laid  to  rest, 
Who  sought  impression  on  our  heart's  imprest 

With  the  unreality  of  verities. 

Far  away  upon  the  rim  of  nothingness 
Gleamed  the  yellow  eyes  of  ships  asail ; 
Beckoning  to  us  in  our  travail 

To  embrace  the  sea's  forgetfulness. 

Night  crept  closer  round  our  rendezvous, 
Whispers  of  the  world  articulate 
At  last,  sought  our  realm  to  compensate 

Our  loneliness  better  than  they  knew. 


38 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


ALCHEMY 

On  the  long,  gray  slopes, 

We  saw  the  mist 
Sliding  down  on  ropes 

That  elves  had  twist. 

In  their  long,  gray  shrouds 

We  saw  them  go, 
Riding  on  the  clouds 

Who  loved  them  so. 

In  their  long,  gray  fold 
The  elves  had  found 

Secret  place  where  gold 
Went  round  and  round. 


39 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


FALL  MOON 

The  sycamores  were  mute. 

The  hoot  owl  screached  his  hoot. 
A  cricket  played  his  tiny  lute 

Beneath  some  warm,  grassy  root. 

The  sycamores  were  still. 

The  mountains  and  the  hill 
Were  black  as  black  could  be  until 

I  felt  the  night  winds'  strange  thrill. 

The  sycamores  shuddered, 

And  their  leaves  were  fluttered 

By  this  cold  wind  that  muttered 

Strange  words  the  earth  had  uttered. 

The  sycamores  listened 

While  he  roughly  hastened, 
And  then  the  dark  sky  glistened 

Like  silver  that  is  chastened. 


40 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


The  sycamores  and  I 

Knew  what  the  wind  did  try 
To  tell  about  the  fickle  sky. 

Its  lover  moon  had  come  nigh. 

The  sycamores  were  bright. 

The  hoot  owl  fled  from  such  light. 
The  cricket  chirped  with  all  his  might, 

And  old  world  was  gold  dedight. 

So  it  was  the  magic  moon 
Sent  his  messenger  the  loon 

To  coax  the  wind  to  blow  so  soon 
Words  that  were  not  meant  for  noon. 


41 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


SUNLAND 

On  the  slopes  of  Sunland 
Looking  towards  the  West 

When  the  sun  drops  downward 
O'er  San  Fernando's  crest. 

In  the  foreground,  warmly, 
Yellow  and  brown  and  red, 

Sage  brush  and  greasewood  grow. 
The  vale  is  green  instead. 

Eucalyptus  trees  are  rich, 
Stately  in  their  dignity; 

Luxuriant  and  glorious, 
They  lift  above  the  valley. 

Through  a  vista  shows  the  wash, 
White  or  scintillate  in  gold, 

And  the  distance  swims  in  blue. 
Ah,  that  is  Sunland  of  old. 


42 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


MOON  MADNESS 

We  were  mad  with  moonlight, 
And  mad  as  harlequins. 

We  were  filled  with  moonlight 
Till  we  were  harlequins; 

Till  we  could  feel  the  earth 
Swinging  off  through  space, 

And  all  the  myriad  mirth 
Of  stars  that  gave  us  race. 

The  hay  became  a  moonboat 

Upon  a  silent  tide, 
And  ev'ry  time  a  star  mote 

Flashed  out  from  us  aside 

It  showed  a  path  of  silver, 
Upon  the  sky  vault  floor. 

We  waved  good-bye  the  Dipper 
Who  spilled  the  Stardust  o'er. 

The  marble  breasted  ladies 
Who  stood  upon  the  hills 

Smiled  down  upon  we  crazies 
With  eyes  that  gave  us  chills. 


43 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


We  laughed  and  joked  like  madmen 
To  gain  their  silent  praise. 

But  we  were  only  moonmen 
Adrift  on  stolen  rays. 

We  heard  some  mystic  whispers, 
And  answered  with  loud  shout 

That  frightened  those  sweet  lispers. 
They  would  not  stay  about. 

And  then  their  angry  silence 
Sent  us  to  sleep  with  fear. 

They  made  us  weep  with  incense. 
They  drew  those  ladies  near. 

We  were  mad  with  moonlight 
And  fooled  like  harlequin. 

But  the  ladies  knew  quite  right 
That  we  were — cherubin. 


44 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


NIGHT  MAGIC 

Out  upon  the  ground,  with  faces  to  the  sky ; 
Far  away  the  stars  that  peer  at  us  and  die. 

Suddenly  the  moon  becames  a  ball  of  gold, 
And  quells  the  night  with  gladness  as  of  old. 

Close  above  our  heads  the  oaks  begin  to  talk, 
And  upon  the  mountains,  gnomes  begin  to  walk. 

Far  away  the  cadence  of  dripping  water  sings, 
And  our  souls  go  softly,  upon  their  silver  wings. 


45 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


WE  SHALL  NOT  PASS 

We  shall  not  pass  this  way  again. 

Lets  see 

If  we 
Can  remember  every  refrain 

That  they 

Did  play? 

You  remember  what  the  blue  jays 

Flying, 

Crying, 
Sang  at  us  in  their  queer  ways, 

And  I 

Will  try 

To  remember  what  the  squirrels 

In  their 

Mid-air 
Flight  from  limb  to  swaying  limb  hurls 

At  me 

To  be. 

Not  again  shall  we  pass  by  this 

Fair  place 

Or  face 
Such  beauty  or  such  sylvan  bliss. 

We'll  sing 

And  sing. 


46 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SAILOR  MEN 

We  sail  our  boats  to  far  Cathay, 

To  Hindustan,  to  Mandalay; 

And  every  spot  the  old  earth  knows 

We  sail  our  boats  where  the  wind  blows. 

We  load  them  down  with  cloves  and  tea ; 
I'll  ship  to  you,  you  ship  to  me, 
Wine  and  sugar  and  lead  and  zinc, 
And  other  names  which  make  me  blink. 

Down  below  the  hot  equator 
Niggers  chase  our  worn  old  freighter, 
But  we  give  him  shot  and  shell, 
Sink  him  down  so  he  can't  yell. 

The  Indians  hide  in  their  canoe, 
And  chase  around  to  frighten  you. 
Just  sail  your  ship  and  I'll  sail  mine. 
We're  Yankee  skippers  of  forty-nine. 


47 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


DUALITY 

In  the  moonbeam's  dream 
And  the  sunbeam's  gleam 
There  is  life  for  you  and  me. 

In  the  raindrop's  call 
And  the  snowdrop's  fall 

Lies  our  love's  sweet  destiny. 

In  a  blue  sky's  gaze 
And  a  dark  cloud's  haze, 

We  strive  and  that  is  living. 

On  a  rose  bud's  stem 
Or  the  thorn  on  them 

We  cling  and  still  are  loving. 


48 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


SING  TO  ME,  LOVE 

Sing  to  me,  love,  in  the  evening, 
When  the  rain  is  falling  outside, 

For  then  I  know  in  thy  singing, 
The  sweet  note  I  knew  as  a  bride. 

Like  lovers,  dear,  on  the  bough, 

Wing  to  wing,  cooing  softly  and  sweet, 
To  the  mate  that  cannot  know  how, 
He  echoes  her  heart-song  complete. 


49 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


WHEN  FALLS  THE  NIGHT 

Together,  when  the  sun  is  gone, 

Up  the  shining  highway  to  the  hill 

Where  the  fields  are  the  bond 

That  welds  the  mountains  to  the  sea- 

Up  the  highway,  leisurely, 
Listing  to  the  roadside  songs, 
Lingering  to  catch  a  murmur 
Of  some  far-off  childish  voice, 
Rejoicing  in  the  silence  of  the  eve 
That  brings  so  much  of  joy 
We  may  only  smile  and  breathe. 
The  mountains  purple  in  the  wane 
Of  day,  but  for  the  utmost  peak 
Where  the  sun  puts  a  spot  of  gold. 
The  eucalyptus  trees  stand  sentinel 
Against  the  orange  sky.    The  pines 
Are  dim  and  cool  in  rough  hospitality. 
What  matters  it  that  we  are  poor? 
In  the  enfolding  bounty,  riches 
Of  all  time  are  ours.    No  gold 
Gives  more  delight  than  the  tresses 
Of  the  vibrant  sky.    We  return, 
Enraptured  by  the  love  that  both 
Revealed  upon  the  hill  last  night. 


50 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


RECOMPENSE 

An  acorn  dropped  upon  the  ground, 

Where  a  lily  grew  so  rare, 
The  shadow  of  whose  leaves  were  found 

A  refuge  for  the  acorn  there. 

An  oak  tree  grew  upon  the  place 

The  lily  once  had  known. 
But  had  the  lily  hid  its  face 

The  oak  tree  ne'er  had  grown. 


51 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


REINCARNATIONS 

The  day  dies.    The  night  lives 
For  a  few  short  hours — 
Then  fades  into  day. 
The  pale  sky  is  pierced  through 
By  dim  stars  and  the  moon 
Rides  across  its  path  from  star 
To  touch  the  next  star 
With  gold.    Then  dies 
With  the  dying  night. 

Beauty  fades.     The  wan  cheek 
Once  blushed  with  the  rose 
Which  crumpled  up  and  died. 
The  bird  that  echoed  her  heart 
Song  flew  once  more 
Then  blessed  the  day  no  more 
With  song.     The  grass  withered 
On  which  her  feet  so  softly  fell. 

So  wantonly  life  grasps 
At  life  that  it  must  die. 
Yet  its  very  strong  desire 
Brings  rushing  back  to  earth 
That  flitting  soul  from  death, 
And  newborn  sighs  to  see 
Once  more  the  old  allure 
Of  vanishing  life. 


52 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


I  CAN  UNDERSTAND 

I  can  understand. 
He  sees  me  fail, 
He  hears  my  laugh, 
He  sees  me  cry, 
And  then  alone, 
He  knows  my  heart. 
He  knows  my  love 
Is  groping  blindly, 
And  when  I  fall 
His  arm  is  there 
To  lift  me  up  again. 
I  can  understand. 

I  can  understand. 
His  divinity 
The  more  because 
Of  love  for  thee. 
His  patient  care, 
His  constant  aid 
That  patiently 
Planned  eternity 
So  all  could  strive 
Again  and  yet  again 
For  that  they  loved. 
I  can  understand. 


53 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


I  can  understand. 
Though  you  should  hate 
And  burn  my  soul 
In  effigy, 

And  then  come  back 
To  me  for  love 
I'd  pour  the  whole 
Stream  of  His  love 
For  me  to  thee 
And  then  rejoice 
As  He  has  done. 
I  can  understand. 


54 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


GONE  ART  THOU,  BELOVED 

Gone  art  thou,  beloved, 
Gone  thy  tender  face, 
And  silent  thy  sweet  words. 
Flown  art  thou,  my  lover, 
Beyond  this  earth  of  ours, 
And  silent  is  the  day. 

Still  I  hear,  beloved, 
Thy  old,  wise  words  again 
And  sacred  they  become. 
Thro'  the  room  which  held  thee 
Lonely  do  I  ponder 
That  silent  is  thy  voice. 

Gone  art  thou,  beloved, 

May  the  dawn  bring  thee  here 

Where  silent  I  abide. 

Bloom,  oh,  rose,  blush  once  more, 

Greet  the  day  with  fragrance. 

Be  silent — earth — be  still. 


55 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


LIFE 

We  drift  along  the  swift  current  of  eternity, 
On  the  broad  bosom  of  its  calm  stream, 
Bobbing  up  and  down,  swinging  to  and  fro, 
In  and  out  of  eddies  and  cool  pools ; 
Basking  in  the  sunlight  as  we  glide; 
Held  in  the  cold  embrace  of  winter  ice; 
Purling  'neath  the  boughs  of  new  leafed  trees 
That  lean  over  us  in  dreamy  passion 
To  caress  and  kiss  the  lips  of  a  wave  upthrust. 

You  and  I,  calm  in  all  our  multitude  of  dreams 
Glide  on  from  out  the  far  into  the  future, 
From  out  the  fastness  of  the  past 
Unto  the  bound  and  rigid  waters 
Of  the  ocean  of  the  ageless  future. 
There  we  touch  our  hands  to  hearts, 
Our  lips  to  lips  and  bid  good-bye, 
But  not  forever,  love,  for  in  that  sea, 
We  still  feel  the  unfathomed  current 
Of  our  love,  irresistibly  drawing  us, 
From  out  the  far  reaches  of  the  infinite, 
To  this  delicious  trysting  place  of  now. 

And  resting  for  the  moment  as  we  may, 
Upon  the  thrilling  bosom  of  the  main, 
Drawing  our  life  from  its  vast  love, 
We  lie  content  and  dream  our  dreams. 
The  clouds  pass  over  in  darkling  mood 
As  the  face  of  heaven  frowns  at  our  delight, 
But  on  we  smile,  dear,  and  see  the  change 
That  comes  in  heaven,  overnight. 


56 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


As  our  souls  are  tossed  together, 

So  together  other  souls  are  bourne, 

Until  the  great  love-bulk  of  souls, 

Are  joined  in  one  indissoluble  whole 

That  fills  the  ocean,  and  laughs  up  to  God, 

And  He  makes  us  other  worlds  to  love  on 

So  great  our  love  has  grown  and  separate 

Each  his  life  is,  yet  grown  together, 

That  one  may  conquer  in  the  air 

Because  the  other  half  is  anchored  in  the  sea. 

Growing  on  our  unselfish  divination  of  love 
We  dream  of  that  sweet,  riotous  stream 
Whereon  first  we  met,  and  bobbed  and  kissed 
Beneath  the  luscious  branches  of  the  willow, 
And  how  we  clasped  our  arms  to  glide 
A-down  some  shining  stone  together 
And  not  be  torn  apart. 

This  is  life,  dear,  with  all  its  joys ; 
For  sorrows  are  but  sweets  not  tasted; 
Shoals  of  solemn,  cold,  delicious  depths 
Wherein  we  see  the  bottom  of  the  stream, 
And  its  life-giving  recompense — eternity. 


57 


SANTA  BARBARA  DAYS 


L'ENVOI 

Beneath  the  flick'ring  stars, 
We  passed  the  solemn  night, 
Till  morning  brought  a  mist 
That  felt  round  the  uptossed  hills 
And  shadowed  them  in  gray. 

Beneath  the  alder  trees 
Which  wept  warm,  dripping  tears 
That  summertime  and  we 
Were  leaving  them  together, 
In  sad  adieu  in  that  calm  way. 

In  that  calm  way  were  these, 
Our  haunted  hearts  reminded 
Of  a  year  gone  by;  a  day 
Of  effort  and  of  joyousness 
Beneath  the  weeping  sky. 

Beneath  the  fervent  spell 
Of  your  bright  smiles  we  learned, 
As  we  tramped  down  to  the  sea, 
That  lowly  people,  kindly  faces 
And  warm  hearts  were  one. 


58 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 


Beneath  the  magic  of  the  wind 
That  wished  through  the  sycamores 
We  felt  the  richness  of  our  years, 
And  uttered  pent-up  hopes 
In  prodigality. 

Beneath  the  weight  of  packs 
We  felt  the  elves  of  witchery 
Turning  back  our  lives  to  when 
The  world  was  young,  was  strong, 
Was  wonder-eyed  before  the  dawn. 


59 


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